Smash Hit!
by Katalystik
Summary: Success hasn't come to Shinji and Kamio until they get a chance to open at the prestigious Atobe Keigo's concert. However, with so many obstacles blocking their way can they make it to the top? [AU, shounenai, bandfic]
1. Chapter 1

Smash Hit

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Shinji/Kamio UST, more in future

Summary: Success hasn't come to Shinji and Kamio until they get a chance to play at the prestigious Atobe Keigo's concert. However, with many obstacles blocking thier way, can they make it to the top? AU, shounen-ai, bandfic

AN:...so late! XD Er I hope you enjoy this. I have a hard time writing in this style and I'm new to these character's personalities. Please comment!

> > > > > >

Chapter One

> > > > > >

Shinji worried a lot.

Sometimes he worried whether they could catch that record contract, whether Kamio's voice would hold out- had he gotten over that flu?- sometimes he worried where they would get their next meal from. He was almost out of medication; soon he would worry about that too.

Kamio rolled over, curling into Shinji's back, bony knees poking into the back of Shinji's own. "'M cold, Ibu." He explained, digging his face between Shinji's shoulder blades. '"Time is it?" His voice was hoarse, Shinji noted.

"Mmph." Shinji's head lolled to the side, allowing his view of their alarm clock. "We gotta get up soon. It's past noon. We gotta clean up- maybe we can scrape some money together. We need something to eat. I can feel your hip bones. I hope we get this gig. I need a new guitar. You need to get your throat checked out. We need to get up." Shinji hoped there was hot water left in their apartment, because both he and Kamio were shivering.

Kamio sat up and recoiled as soon as the comforter slid from his shoulders. Damn, it was cold. He swung his legs off of the bed- not a far way down, as the mattress was on the floor- and scrambled for the cup of water he had set there last night. His throat burned badly, so badly he could hardly swallow. His fingers found the cup and raised it to his lips.

Nothing came out. He blinked and stared into the cup. The water had frozen.

Behind him, Shinji was pulling a pair of jeans from the floor, pulling them onto his slim hips and leaving them unbuttoned. They really did need to land this act. He could count Shinji's ribs from here. He sighed and tugged his hair in front of his eye, nervously, staring at the crimson stuff. Ew. His hair was greasy.

He threw the blanket at his friend and stood up, rubbing his arms. "I'm taking a shower. Keep warm till I get out, okay? Last thing we need is one of us getting sick."

Shinji gazed at him dolefully from under the bundle of sheets, dark eyes studying him. "You are sick, Akira." It was a surprisingly short statement, coming from him.

Kamio shifted nervously under the scrutiny. "I told you," He said softly, trying to make his voice as normal as possible. "I'm fine." He made his way to the bathroom, shivering. "You worry too much, Shinji."

"You make me worry." Shinji murmured seriously, but Kamio had already shut the door.

> > > > > >

The door creaked open just as Kamio got into the shower.

"The steam makes it warm," Shinji explained, flipping the toilet seat down and sitting on it, bundled in the blanket. "I hope there's enough water for me. I haven't taken a shower in days. My hair is disgusting. I'm thinking about getting it trimmed." He paused. "My head hurts."

Kamio rubbed shampoo into his hair and peeked out from behind the curtain. "Did you take your medicine?" He winced as shampoo traveled into his eye and cursed, rubbing at it frantically.

A mumbled, "Yeah." was heard.

Kamio began to hum to himself and slumped against the shower wall, closing his eyes. Today they had a huge oppurtunity- they had somehow managed to snag an audition to open for Atobe Keigo, their first real chance to be recognized since they had gotten together as a band. They had to get this gig; Kamio was desperate not to let Shinji down again. He couldn't see his friend live like this, going without food for days on end, shivering in a two room apartment.

The shower curtain opened. Kamio watched lazily as Shinji slinked into the shower, blanket and clothes shedded to the tiled floor. He tossed his the shampoo. "Hey, Shinji?"

"Hm?" Shinji was smiling slightly, leaning into the water. His hair was getting pretty long, Kamio observed. The purple mass, made slick and limp by water, was halfway down his roommate's back. He could count five different colors intersped in Shinji's hair- their choice of profession almost demanded a few dye jobs, after all. Purple, pink, blue, red, green- and the black roots, just beginning to peek.

Kamio ducked his head under the spray. "Are you nervous? About today? At all?"

Shinji stepped from the shower and began to towel himself off. Kamio stared at him from underneath the stream of the shower, serious.

Shinji stared back, lips tilting upwards, a rare thing. "I think... we're good together. We'll show them that. I... I have a good feeling. That doesn't happen too often." Kamio would know that all too well.

Kamio smiled. "Yeah. You're right." A thumping noise was heard, from outside of the bathroom. Shinji's eyebrows knitted as he roped the towel around his waist. Kamio slathered some conditioner onto his hair, frowning.

"Someone's at the door." He said, closing the shower curtain. The moment was broken.

Shinji went to get the door.

> > > > > >

"Well/geez, you could have put some clothes on."

Shinji was confronted with an snobbish, familiar voice as soon as he had opened the door. He resisted the urge to slam the door shut in the small boy's face and enjoy the silence of the apartment. He gazed at Gakuto blankly. "What do you want?"

The small redhead pushed his way past Shinji, dragging in a large bag behind him. He put his hands on his hips huffily, glancing around. "So? Where's Kamio? I came with your clothes." He haughtily gave Shinji a once-over. "Although I'm sure a towel is very stylish."

Shinji sat down at the small kitchen table and buried a hand in his hair. "He's in the shower." He tried to will his growing headache away. It wasn't working.

Gakuto made himself at home, plopping himself onto their bed. His tilted his head, magenta hair falling to the side. "/Gawd, you guys need a new pad. This whole kitchen-in-the-same-room-as-the-bed isn't working for me at all." He blew a strand of hair from his lips. "Your ceiling is crumbling, even." He pointed out.

Shinji glanced up. Hey, it was. He hitched his towel up, listening to the shower shut off.

Gakuto was now at the fridge, staring into it's bleak contents. He grabbed a bottle of water and turned to Shinji, scrutinizing. "I brought some clothes for tonight." He declared, pointing a fingernail at the bag he had brought, black nail polish glinting. "I figured you guys needed it."

"Needed what?" Kamio emerged from the bathroom, wearing Shinji's shed pair of pants. Shinji took a moment to appreciate the fact that they could fit in each other's clothing. It made shopping easier. The matching tatoo they had was peeking right above the waistband of the jeans, black against white skin. He glared at Gakuto, scrubbing the water from his hair. "Look who came uninvited. Again."

Gakuto, kneeling on the wood floor, dug through the large paper bag and sneered up at Kamio through short bangs. "Aren't you forgetting who gets you half of your shows? Be thankful I like you, rhythm boy." He pulled out a black, fishnet shirt. He tossed it at Kamio. "Put this on." He produced a tight, black t-shirt with a large red X emblazoned across it. "And this."

Another knock at the door. Kamio frowned, pulling the clothes over his head. "Who could that be?"

Gakuto smiled, purple eyes slitting. "I asked Oshitari to bring my makeup."

Shinji groaned from the table. Today was going to be a long day.

> > > > > >

First chapter done! I have plans for this fic. Mmmm. Er. I've never really gotten much practice on multi-parters, so please comment! I absolutely love Shinji and Kamio, and the idea of them in a band would not leave my mind. I was all - drooool. Expect cameos (hahaha) from many characters and main parts for many. Like Fuji. And Atobe. And...well, wait and see! XD XD XD

Please commeeeeeeeeeent desu!


	2. Chapter 2

Smash Hit

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Shinji/Kamio UST, more in future

Summary: Success hasn't come to Shinji and Kamio until they get a chance to play at the prestigious Atobe Keigo's concert. However, with many obstacles blocking thier way, can they make it to the top? AU, shounen-ai, bandfic

AN:...Chapter two, a week later! I was surprised I was actually interested in writitng it, I usually let stories rot... XD BUT NOT THIS ONE! Oho. I love to see these boys all... bannd-like. What to expect this chapter? Er, more ghei, Oshitari with make-up, super flashbacks, Fuji appears, Jiroh spazzes, and Kamio and Shinji are on stage. In that order.

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

Oshitari's fingers were warm and smelled of cologne as they pushed Shinji's eyelid down softly. Slow swipes of an eyeliner stick lined the edges of Shinji's eye, and soft thumbs followed, smudging the makeup gently. Oshitari's breath smelled like peppermints, and Shinji could hear the candy slicking around in the man's mouth. Shinji tried his hardest to concentrate on something else, like Kamio and Gakuto's bickering, ignoring the close presence of Oshitari.

"Don't you think this is a bit excessive?" Kamio growled, twisting some gel through his bangs and glaring in annoyance at the intrusive redhead perched on his kitchen table. One hand obsessively fingered the rips in his jeans, toying with the striped stockings underneath. "We're there to perform, not to put on a fashion show. We've never had to wear makeup before."

Oshitari snorted softly, a soft release of breath right down Shinji's neck. Shinji felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Gakuto hopped off the kitchen table and strolled to lean over Oshitari's shoulder, observing his work for a moment. "I think it adds to the effect." He said perkily. "After all, Yuushi even took time off from the studio to come over here. You could at least act thankful, jerk."

Kamio made a grunting noise and returned to his hair. "Whatever." He paused, peering at Shinji. "God, we look like women." He mumbled.

"Na, Yuushi, are you almost done?" Gakuto drawled, pawing through his friend's makeup bag disinterestedly. He held up a vial of dark stuff to the light, squinting at it. He shook it. "Hey, what's this?"

Oshitari looked up from Shinji, keeping his hands on the boy's face. "Ah, Gakuto, could you pass me that?" He smushed a palm over Shinji's cheeks, spreading a light pink powder under his cheekbones. "It's lipstick. Like that kind I used to put on you." He smiled at Gakuto, gazing at him fondly from over his half-circle glasses.

Gakuto blushed and handed him the jar. He averted his eyes to Shinji, who was sitting as stiff as a board, hands folded in his lap. "That was before you graduated art school. But I think..." He stared at Shinji's clothes, which was a mainly black ensemble. "It will look good."

Kamio glanced at the clock on the wall, fingering his glossed lips distractedly. They would have to leave soon to get to the audition. It was three already and the audition was at five, in a studio across the town. He quelled the butterflies in his stomach.

They had to get this job.

* * *

(two years earlier)

* * *

Kamio stared at Shinji, watching his friend strum his fingers, pickless, across his guitar.

"Did you ever think," He began, breaking the comfortable silence they had been sitting in for nearly an hour. "That we could make a living out of this? Just you and me?"

Shinji looked up, strands of black hair that had escaped his messy bun getting into his eyes. He was quiet for a moment, contemplating. "I've thought about that for a long time." He continued. "We've been a duo for years now. We're good. We have talent. I don't see why we couldn't do this for good. It makes me sick to think that one day we have to stop. What a waste. I would rather do something I'd like then become a businessman or something. I don't think I could watch Kamio do something he hated, either. We should go for it. Unless you don't want to. In that case we could just play on the side like we do now. We've almost graduated. I'm sure we'll have to split apart anyway."

Kamio laughed, tossing a pillow at Shinji from his perch at the head of the mattress. "You know, someday I may get tired of hearing you talk."

Shinji regarded him seriously from behind the neck of his guitar, "Then I'd learn to be quiet. I can't afford to have you getting tired of me, after all. You might leave."

Kamio grew silent, gaze shifting to the carpet on the floor, brows furrowed and grin gone. He knew how Shinji got when he wasn't around- the incident when he admitted his crush on Tachibana An, Shinji's feeling of abandonment. He could never put his friend through that again.

Instead of replying- 'I won't leave, ever' or something equally meaningful, Kamio stretched out his legs over Shinji's calves, rested them there in a strange form of comforting contact. He took a breath and began to sing, a song they had just written, one they hadn't had a chance to play in front of an audience.

Shinji lay down, breathing and thinking. Kamio- Kamio would never leave him. He couldn't breathe without Kamio, he couldn't function. But he knew he didn't mean that to Kamio- to him he was just a best friend. To Shinji Kamio was the only one who could ever understand him.

Shinji closed his eyes and began to pick out the tune of Kamio's singing on his guitar. He never knew it was possible to be so close to someone and yet be so lonely.

* * *

(present)

* * *

"Shinji! Hey, man, wake up. We're here." Kamio shook Shinji's shoulder roughly, pushing out the door of the cab. "Come on."

Shinji blinked slowly, then realized his cheek was smashed into the soft leather of Kamio's jacket and that he was staring sleepily into the face of an irate looking cab driver. Outside the window snow was falling and he saw that they had stopped in front of a nondescript looking warehouse-type building, a huge box like shape with a few windows and large doors. Kamio was handing the driver a small fistful of bills, probably the last of their money.

They both got out of the cab and onto the snow-carpeted sidewalk, Shinji shouldering his guitar. Kamio turned nervous, kohl-rimmed eyes toward the building, then to Shinji. "Are you ready?" His throat still hurt, kind of, but not so much that he couldn't stand to talk. He hoped he could still sing. "This is it, Shinji."

Shinji kicked the snow from his tattered (yet stylish, of course) gym shoes and walked towards the door. "Of course I'm ready. I've been ready. I hope this works out. We better get this job. You better be able to sing, because I've noticed you've not been your best lately. Did I tune my guitar? It should be okay. Let's go inside, I'm cold." He had been standing with the door open for at least fifteen seconds while he rambled. Kamio smiled and walked inside. Shinji patted his guitar case and followed.

They were greeted with the sight of a very large, very open room, walled in shiny metal and lighted with very modern, tinted wall lamps. At the end of the room, across from the door, a small stage was constructed, hardly a foot off the ground. On it a figure was writhing, singing and playing a guitar furiously. A man sat in a chair before the stage and singer, but besides that, it was empty.

"They're good," Kamio whispered into Shinji's ear, lips brushing the shell lightly. Shinji nodded, watching and listening to the performance. The person- Shinji couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl- was very good, and looked very good too. Tight black pants shone in the stage light, glittered brown hair and glossy lips shone wetly even from their distance. The way the fabric moved across the chest- oh, it was a boy after all. A soft, rich voice spread across the room, amplified into the microphone. The song was good- the singer was entrancing.

The music stopped, leaving Shinji and Kamio open-mouthed. The man was very good- they were starting to have doubts if this was what they were up against.

"Su-go-i!" A small man, previously unnoticed, sprung from a chair seated before the stage. Shinji twitched in surprise as his loud voice carried over to him and shot a look at Kamio. Kamio looked as if he were about to panic. Shinji reached over and gripped his hand tightly.

"That was great! Wow!" Attention was brought back to the excited man, who was bouncing up towards the stage. Soft brown curls shone glossily as he bobbed around in amazement, eyes wide. "I've heard of you! Fuji Syuusuke, right? Hey! I'm Akutagawa Jirou, a scout for Atobe Keigo! Wow, you are good! I saw you play at a club once! AweSOME! Atobe would love to have you as an opener!" He waved his arms about a bit, laughing. The singer, now identified as said Fuji, watched in amusement, nodding towards Shinji and Kamio.

Jirou coughed and looked around. He saw Shinji and Kamio standing, huddled together, at the door, and cleared his throat. "Hi, over there! Are you next?"

Shinji nodded. Kamio began to breathe quickly, his breath rasping from between his teeth. Shinji rubbed his partner's fingers between his own. "Nothing to be nervous about, we've done this millions of times. We're just as good as that Fuji guy. It's okay. Remember that one time, when that one scout propositioned us? And we had to play in front of him? This is just like that," Shinji paused. "Except we'll hopefully get the gig this time."

Jirou turned to Fuji, who was snapping his guitar into its case. "Hey! We'll get back to you, okay? You definitely snagged one of the opening spots! One left, now! Hey, you two may get it!" He glanced at a clipboard, fingers absently pulling at his fuzzy yellow sweater. "Shinji and Kamio is it? Scheduled for five?"

Kamio stepped forward, hand out. "N-Nice to meet you."

Jirou took his hand. "You guys are up! I hope you're good." He yawned extensively, covering his mouth with a hand. "Sorry about that."

Kamio nodded, slowly. "We'll start to set up then." He beckoned to Shinji, who picked up his guitar case, and walked on stage, feet heavy. This was it. Kamio picked up the microphone and breathed deeply.

Fuji leaned against the door and folded his arms. He always liked to know what he was up against, after all. He smiled softly as he watched the excitable Jirou, Atobe's 'scout', fuss over the pair on stage, helping them set up. Not like they looked like they would pose any competition, two young, scrawny boys who hardly looked as if they could afford to feed themselves, much less perform.

Finally, they were ready. Shinji plucked a few strings on his guitar, then nodded, deeming it ready. Kamio winked at him nervously, blinking back a wince in the face of the heady stage lights. He let out a few soft warm up notes, then let his voice rise as he prepared his voice for a few songs, stretching his vocal cords. Shinji strummed along. Jirou watched them, expectantly.

"Are you ready?" He called, crossing his legs and tapping his clipboard across his knee.

Kamio turned to Shinji. Shinji tossed back his hair and flashed him a grin, rare and wide. Ready.

Kamio lifted his head and his hopes, and sang.

* * *

Pleaaaaase review or critique, it keeps me alive! Too gay? Not enough gay? Comments? Boring? Stupid? Any of the above accepted! 


	3. Chapter 3

Smash Hit!

Rating: PG-13

Chapter: 3?

Pairings: Shinji/Kamio, Mizuki/Yuuta, small hints of Fujicest, more in future

Summary: Success hasn't come to Shinji and Kamio until they get a chance to play at the prestigious Atobe Keigo's concert. However, with many obstacles blocking their way, can they make it to the top? AU, shounen-ai, bandfic

Word Count For Chapter: 2,955

AN:...Chapter three! NOW BETA-ED!) grin Man, I'm having fun writing this. It seems to be moving slowly, but that's okay, right? This is just going to be a loooong story! XD And the readers sob. Sorry, I find it really hard to write any action- like walking, or moving, or anything like that. This fic is an exercise to brush myself up on that- hope I'm progressing somewhat! These author notes are so unprofessional- forgive me as I babble. Er, enjoy! More notes at the bottom!

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

"I'm moving in with him." Yuuta stated softly.

Fuji's breath caught in his throat softly. Slowly, slowly, he slid the spoon in his tea clockwise, then counter-clockwise, then back again. His lips felt very dry, as did his mouth. He touched a fingertip to his lips, looked away from his tea. He looked up, hesitantly. Yuuta was still there, yes, looking as if this were the eye of the hurricane, and anything Fuji said wrong would throw them into the real storm. Calm. Fuji breathed again, deeper this time.

He curled his fingers around his tea cup, relishing whatever vestiges of warmth he could get from the cup- the room was suddenly cold- "Ah. I wasn't expecting that." He said in a blithe tone.

Yuuta took a long sip from his own cup, the scent of fresh coffee drifting from him. He stared at his brother thoughtfully, blue eyes sharp and dangerously raw. As if he were expecting Fuji to jump over the little table and beat some sense into him, right there in the coffee shop. He swallowed. "I'll bet you were." He muttered. "Mizuki is coming over to help me pack tomorrow, you know. You'll have the apartment to yourself, finally."

Fuji was tearing into twenty pieces at once, being tugged in five thousand directions. No more Yuuta. No more Yuuta in his apartment, no more early morning breakfasts. No more movies with his head nestled in Yuuta's shoulder. He'd never have to get on Yuuta about picking up his dirty socks from the bathroom, he'd never have to kiss his brother's cheek goodnight. He'd never have to walk in on Yuuta pinning Mizuki to their couch, moaning. He'd never... Fuji saw red, bit his cheek. His little brother was being taken away from him. His brother had grown up and moved on. His tea tasted bitter as he took a long swig of it, burning his throat as he swallowed quickly. He smiled. "How long have you and Mizuki-kun been together, Yuuta?"

mrestallion: Yuuta bit into a piece of toast. "A year tomorrow."

Fuji paused, his head swimming as if he had been hit with a sack of bricks, "Aa." He dug his toe into the sole of his shoe as hard as he could, anything to distract him from the present situation, "That's a while."

Yuuta nodded and silence fell over them, cold and uncomfortable. Fuji felt as though his life was falling down before him- two years worth of living with Yuuta gone so quickly. Half of that time... that bastard Mizuki had his paws on Yuuta. A whole year, and Fuji had just found out a week ago, just by walking into his own apartment, innocent.

Yuuta was finishing with his food and looked ansy. A waitress brought them their check, and Fuji took it, eyes skimming the bill before flicking to Yuuta. "I'll pay it."

"No, you don't have to-"

"What kind of sibling would I be if I didn't take care of my baby brother?" Fuji smiled at Yuuta once again, breaking the cold atmosphere mercifully. Yuuta sagged in his seat noticeably, relaxing. "You'll never guess what happened to me, Yuutaaa."

"Eh? What?" Yuuta began to stack little jelly containers, eyebrows furrowed. It was if the whole Mizuki situation had been forgotten- the atmosphere between the two had instantly reverted to the close comfort they were so used to.

Fuji tipped a small jelly pile over playfully. "I just landed a very good job," He leaned back, "But doing what? Guess!"

Yuuta sighed, exasperated. "I don't know. Stripping?"

"I'm offended! Nothing so sleazy." Fuji tipped his chair back, balancing it on two legs. "You know that Atobe Keigo? Of whom you own two CDs?"

Yuuta nodded.

"Well, it just so happens that I landed a job opening at his upcoming tour," Fuji tried to sound humble, but couldn't keep a hint of pride from entering his voice. He wondered why it mattered so much to have Yuuta think highly of him, why he was telling him of this new advancement at all. He brushed those thoughts away.

Yuuta stared at him, a bit of toast hanging limply from his mouth. Fuji laughed softly and pushed it back in, flicking his fingertip against Yuuta's tongue, then back out. Yuuta flushed crimson and sat back farther into his chair. "No freaking way. You're pulling my chain."

"If only I was," Fuji responded, titling his head to the side and letting his hair fall into his eyes, "I auditioned yesterday and already got the call. I'm in." Eyelashes framed Yuuta's face as Fuji watched him through veiled eyelids, waiting for a reaction. Praise. Awe. A hug, or a gleeful smile. Anything from Yuuta would be enough.

A cell phone rang. "Ah, that's mine." Yuuta waved a hand, excusing himself. He flicked open his phone, only too aware of Fuji watching him intently. "Hello?"

Fuji's fingers wrapped around a fork, twirling the instrument slowly.

"Ah, I guess. I still have to finish packing. Huh? Yeah, I guess you could help. My bed's plenty big enough, of course you can stay. Ah, right now I'm at that little café on Vine Street with my brother. I can meet you in about twenty minutes if you want to wait. Hey, wait!" Yuuta stood up, holding his phone to his shoulder. "Aniki, where are you-"

Fuji waved the check, halfway to the counter, "I've got places to go and things to do, Yuuta. I'll pay this and leave, okay? His voice, though soft and pleasant, had an undertone of venom. "Don't let me keep you."

Yuuta stared as Fuji payed the bill and left, feeling somewhat nervous. He picked up his phone once more.

"Mizuki? Yeah, I'm leaving now. See you then."

* * *

Kamio sighed as he dug into his pockets, counting change onto the counter. One dollar... two dollars and sixty cents, more then enough to buy both he and Shinji a bagel or two. His eyes wandered the bakery display. Mm, or maybe a donut. He knew Shinji was fond of the cream filled ones.

"I'll take one of those," He said, waving down the girl at the counter, poking the glass above the cream filled donuts. "And..." He looked around. "One of these, too." He gestured at a pile of glazed pastries. His mouth watered as the girl bagged the food. He hoped Shinji wasn't awake yet so he could surprise him- they hadn't eaten in a full day. He glanced at his cell phone; it was only eight in the morning, there was no way his roommate would be awake yet. He paid for the donuts, the honest end of whatever money they had left. He considered getting a job briefly, but ditched that train of thought in lieu of keeping a good mood. Thinking about money too much made him cranky.

He broke out of the bakery and into the morning sun, in a surprisingly good mood. Yesterday they had played their best set yet, totally in the rhythm. That Jirou kid had been all over them after the song, bouncing happily and promising them a call, they had been excellent. Even that Fuji guy, who had stuck around to watch them, had looked impressed, even shook their hands. There was nothing that could bring him down today, Kamio thought. They had the job, he was sure. They were going to be famous. They were going to get out of the hellish pit of a life they had fallen into. They were on the damn rhythm, finally.

He felt a warm sort of happiness creep through him as he remembered the look on Shinji's face- the first time he had seen his friend truly look happy in months. They had gone out after the audition, Kamio's arm flung around Shinji's shoulder, sharing warmth, singing and laughing with each other. They had stayed up late, giddy with the thrill of performing, and performing well, fallen asleep with a satisfied kind of exhaustion. Shinji was still smiling in his sleep when Kamio woke up and untangled himself from the blankets and his friend. It was going to be a great day.

Kamio took the steps to their apartment two by two, humming happily to himself. He held the bakery bag in his mouth as he fumbled in his pocket for his keys and unlocked the door.

"Shinji! I've got breakfast!" He shouted cheerily, waving the paper bag with a flourish. There was no answer. Kamio stepped into the apartment, pulling his keys from the door and closing it softly. He craned his head around. Shinji wasn't where Kamio had left him a bit ago, curled into a warm pocket of blankets, long hair falling softly across the bed. He walked to the table and sat the bag and the keys down, being quiet, muffling the jingle of the keys with his hand. "Shinji?"

A strangled noise came from the bathroom, and Kamio's heart shot into his throat. He tripped over his own foot as he spun in the direction of the bathroom, arms flailing wildly as he tried to upright himself. Oh god, Shinji. Shinji- Kamio had a good idea what was happening, judging by the soft sobbing coming from behind the bathroom door, through the thin walls. "Shinji!" He never remembered moving so fast in his life- he was at the bathroom door in a breath, scrambling at the handle with shaking fingers. It was locked.

"Dammit, Shinji, open the door!"

The handle shivered and jerked under Kamio's palm, and then he felt and heard the click as it was unlocked. It took him half a second to open the door and fall down to Shinji, who was curled on the floor, clutching his knees. Kamio took one look at his friend before he roughly pulled him into his arms, digging his face into Shinji's shoulder. Shinji shivered and buried his tear-stained face into Kamio's chest, heaving with sobs.

"You came back," he choked out, fingers shakily sliding under Kamio's shirt, gripping his bare shoulders. He sucked at Kamio's collarbone, squeezing his eyes shut as his body wracked helplessly.

Kamio took in a few deep breaths, calming down. "Yeah. Yeah, I came back. It's okay, Shinji. Hey. Hey, calm down, okay?"

Shinji slid down the wall, his vision swimming, dragging Kamio down with him, pulling him on top of him awkwardly. "I woke up," He said softly, his voice hoarse. "You weren't there. I thought you were gone." He kissed Kamio's cheek once, then over and over, felt his friend tense then relax.

Kamio ran a hand over Shinji's back, up and down in a comforting pattern. He shifted so that Shini's hip bones wouldn't be digging into his own. God, when was the last time this had happened? Shinji hadn't relapsed into this behavior in what felt like forever, hadn't caved into such a depression since- Kamio felt a small wave of guilt. Not since An. Kamio forced a smile, lifted his face so that he could look Shinji in the eye. "Are you okay, now?"

Shinji shook his head. "I will be. I need to take my medicine. I haven't, lately. I didn't think I needed it. Stupid, huh. I never expected this. It was so good yesterday. I'll bet we got the job. That Jirou liked us. Do you have your phone on?" He paused. "You said you had donuts?"

Kamio gave a soft laugh and stood up, helping Shinji up. "I wouldn't leave you, you know that." He walked into the kitchen, leading Shinji by the hand. Shinji was still shaking slightly, fingers curled tightly around Kamio's own as if the connection were a lifeline. Kamio knew that in many ways it was.

They sat and ate donuts, Kamio enjoying the way Shinji's eyes lit up when he was presented with his cream filled pastry. When they were done eating, Kamio wiped up the crumbs and furtively filled a glass of water and slipped it and a pill across the table, towards Shinji. "No more skipping, okay?"

Shinji nodded and leaned his head back, swallowing the white pill with a large gulp of water. Kamio made a mental note that Shinji should not be allowed to skip his dose any more, he never wanted to come home to that again if he could help it.

They both jumped as a loud beeping came from Kamio's pants. His cell phone! He fumbled with his pocket, lifting his hips so he could slide the little device from his jeans. He pressed it to his ear, heart thumping, "Hello?"

"Aa, I suppose this is either Kamio or Shinji, respectively." The voice was foreign to Kamio, and he looked to Shinji with wide eyes. Shinji stared at him, eyes red from crying but bright with hope. "Who is it?" He mouthed. Kamio shrugged.

He cleared his throat, reaching across the table to grip Shinji's hand. "Kamio Akira, speaking. May I ask who this is?"

The voice gave a low, amused grunt. "You question me? What nerve. After all, aren't I the one you happen to now be playing for?"

Kamio felt faint. "You mean you're Atobe?" He caught himself. "I mean, Atobe Keigo, sir! We're...we're playing for you?" Shinji had darted around the table, was now pressed against Kamio so he could hear the conversation. Both of them were breathing quickly- was this really happening?

"I suppose I could ask Jirou for another option, but he assured me, rather enthusiastically I might add, that you two were the best for the job. I'd rather not have to rely on a second choice, as I want only the best to perform under my name. I would hope you're eager for the part, yes?"

Shinji sat on the floor, heavily, hugging Kamio's knee. Kamio had to keep the ear splitting grin from filtering into his voice. He wanted to sound calm and capable, not like an excited fangirl who just got her poster signed. "Of course, sir. I- we are happy to take the job." Shinji kissed his knee and gripped his hand tightly. "Thank you."

A haughty reply. "No need to thank me, I'm only calling to affirm Jirou's selections. I could care less about your gratitude. Expect an escort to pick you up tomorrow- there are arrangements that need to be made. Do not disappoint me, be ready by three." The line was cut as Atobe hung up rather abruptly, leaving Kamio slack-jawed on the other line.

A few seconds of silence followed, in which Kamio hung up his phone as if in a daze. Shinji, for once, was totally silent.

"Guess what?" Kamio asked softly, tugging at a long strand of hair that had fallen from Shinji's impromptu pony-tail. He felt as if he were going to explode, life had never felt so good, and Shinji's eyes had never been quite so large as he looked up at Kamio.

"What?" He asked, mandatorily. He knew, he knew, but he had to hear it from Kamio's mouth. The same mouth which was stretched out from its usual somber, thinking frown into the largest grin physically possible. Shinji felt a huge urge to push up from the floor, to kiss Kamio, run his tongue over that grin. He settled for placing a hand on Kamio's thigh, squeezing.

Kamio took a deep breath, then tackled Shinji. "We got the job." He whispered into his ear, pressing his friend to the floor, hands tickling, laughing uncontrollably as Shinji squirmed happily. Shinji laughed helplessly, eyes squeezing shut as Kamio tickled him senseless, tears leaking down his cheeks. He stretched his arms around Kamio and pulled him close, breathing halted as he took a few lungfuls of air.

Kamio settled on top of Shinji, still laughing. "God, this is great."

Shinji grinned despite himself. "Now what?" He asked, spreading his arms out along the wooden floor, feeling rather weightless and giddy.

Kamio groped across the floor for his cell phone, which had been flung carelessly. He began to dial a number, cushioning his head on Shinji's chest.

"Now, we wait."

* * *

AN: I'm going on a long limb here and labeling Shinji's disorder a weird mix between depression and schizophrenia, though I'm no expert on either. Hey, this is a fanfic, right? Artistic liberties! Yeah. More on his 'thing' later. Like, in the story. What else...Oh, and in case you were like "Yuuta? WTF!", heh, I like Yuuta and he'll be in this a bit. XD And I believe that's all.

What to expect next chapter? I don't know. I type it as I go. As of now, my plans go as such: Shinji and Kamio UST YEAH! GOLD. ...How sad. It's a wonder this fic ever picked up.

Comment, yeah? Criticize me, I need it. Even "u suxx0rz get a life kthxbye" would suffice. Or just a plain ol' review.


	4. Chapter 4

Smash Hit!

Rating: PG-13

Chapter: 4?

Pairings: Shinji/Kamio, Mizuki/Yuuta, more in future

Summary: Success hasn't come to Shinji and Kamio until they get a chance to play at the prestigious Atobe Keigo's concert. However, with many obstacles blocking their way, can they make it to the top? AU, shounen-ai, bandfic

Word Count For Chapter: 4,909

AN: Ah, chapter four! I have some problems with this, but I like it the best so far. I love Sengoku. :3 Plus, I'm having the hardest time not just making this all out ShinjixKamio smut. XD BUT I WILL PERSERVERE! Or something like that. In other words, read and enjoy! If you don't enjoy, tell me, and I will apologize profusely.

-  
"Turn over." Shinji's voice was commanding, pulling Kamio out his sleep-induced haze long enough for him to flip half-heartedly onto his stomach, curling his toes into the sheets. His throat ached like hell- he could taste blood coming into his mouth, kept swallowing it back again and again. He supressed a cough, making a weird gurgling noise instead. He sniffled into a pillow, shoving his face in it.

"It hurts, Shinji."

Shinji swept the blankets down to Kamio's waist and gently tugged the other's shirt up over tense shoulders. He swept his palms firmly down and back up the smooth skin of Kamio's back, digging his fingers into muscle, feeling the stress there. Kamio was quivering with the effort to supress the coughs that had been wracking his body, and Shinji dropped a quick kiss on his shoulder blade, letting his lips linger on the over-warm skin, the barest flicker of tongue. "Yeah. I'll bet it does hurt. You woke me up coughing. Again." He murmured. "How many times have I told you to take that medicine? To take it easy? I shouldn't be surprised that this happened. Should you drink some water? Maybe I'll make some tea. Gakuto brought some over, didn't he? I'll go get some..." Shinji let a foot drop from the bed, all intent of making Kamio tea.

Kamio's hand shot out, awkwardly snaring Shinji's wrist and giving a pull, directing Shinji to him, over him. "It... it feels better when you touch me, you know? When I drink it just burns worse- like I'm drinking sandpaper, it feels. Could you..." Kamio sounded embarassed, and Shinji smiled to himself and rubbed a cirlce in the small of Kamio's back, using his fingernails lightly to make the other boy's back arch. Kamio seemed to find his voice again, after a wide yawn. "Could you sleep closer to me? On me? It's warmer that way, and I know I don't cough as much..." Kamio trailed off and turned his head back into the pillow.

It was all Shinji could do then not to tug Kamio up and kiss him senseless. He blinked, slowly, heavily, before nodding to himself and slipping back under the covers. With gentle fingers he pulled Kamio's shirt down again, and he let himself curl against Kamio's back, pillowing his head under his shoulderblades and tugging an arm over his waist. This was a first- they were bound to wake up in the mornings on each other, tangled with each other, it was a given, almost. But never before had they talked about it. It was a breach of the smoky conduct that constituted their friendship- it tempted Shinji to cross the lines he'd been dying to cross for years. Tempted him to pull Kamio on top of him, to kiss his pale cheeks, lips, rub his nose in his hair. But he'd settle for this.

"Can't believe we made it, you know?" Kamio was talking again, his words rumbling through his back, against Shinji's face. "Yeah. Tomorrow... I wonder what we'll do. What that Atobe guy has in store for us. Huh, Shinji?" He turned his head, straining to see Shinji through the dark over his shoulder.

Shinji closed his eyes. "I guess he'll want to meet us. I'd want to meet the people playing for me. To see if they're good enough, presentable. I set the alarm clock. We should get to sleep. You need rest." He felt rather than heard Kamio's "goodnight", felt the boy's muscles and skin lose tension as he fell asleep.

Shinji stayed up long after, thinking.

-  
Kamio walked from the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth. "Oi, Shinji." He called, running his fingers through wet, mahogany hair, tugging it into place over his eye. He padded over to to bed, where Shinji was curled around a pillow. He stroked a finger across Shinji's brow, smiling to himself as the boy leaned into his touch, murmuring something in his sleep. He leaned closer to Shinji, lips hovering over his ear, hair dripping water onto his face. "Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up, we've got an hour to get ready."

Shinji rolled over slightly, twisting on his side in order to face up at Kamio, who had not moved. "Mn, you're dripping on me," He said slowly, and reached a hand up to tangle in Kamio's hair. He blinked a few times and Kamio sat down on the bed, pillowing his chin on Shinji's collarbone, his nose brushing the boy's chin. Shinji gave him a sleepy, lidded look. "S'your throat better?"

Kamio smiled. "Much." They rested like that, half huddled into each other for a few minutes. Finally, Shinji's chest gave a heave as he sighed, hands reaching up to push Kamio off of him. "M'kay. I'm getting in the shower now. I wonder what to wear. Didn't Gakuto drop some clothes off when he stopped over last night? I'll let you put something together for me." He sat up, putting his feet to the hardwood floor. He looked at Kamio. "Do we have any clean towels?"

Kamio laughed at him and plugged a blowdryer into the wall, sitting crosslegged on the floor. "Do we really have any towels?"

'True,' Shinji thought to himself. Like the foolish teenagers they were, they had lacked the common sense to buy much of the essentials needed to live an independant life- not like they could really bring anything from home, though. Shinji gave a brief thought as to what had become of all of his former possesions before blocking that train of thought. Thinking about that time would get him nowhere. He walked into the bathroom, still tucked into a bundle of blankets. He hoped Kamio hadn't used all the hot water.

-  
By the time Shinji got out of the shower (there had been plenty of hot water, enough to make him wonder how long of a shower Kamio himself had taken) there was a small pile of clothes stacked outside the bathroom door. He leaned down to grab them, noticing the towel folded next to them, and took that too. Setting the clothes onto the sink, he noticed the small white pill nestled on top of a black t-shirt, sticking out starkly against the dark fabric. He swallowed, took a calming breath, and downed it dry, trying not to think about it. Shreds of humiliation were still remnant from the previous morning- he never wanted to put Kamio through that ever again.

After drying himself off with Kamio's slightly damp towel, Shinji shook out the clothes, inspecting them. A tight, black t-shirt, cut short and embossed with a glittery rainbow motif. The pants were ridiculous- bright pink cargo pants. He gave a sniff as he pulled on the clothes, feeling inordinately stupid about them. "Dumb ass Gakuto," He muttered to himself, gazing into their small, dingy mirror as he pulled his hair back into a messy ponytail, letting half of it fall in his face. "If I didn't know any better I would swear he out to get me. Giving us these dumb clothes. Like I want to wear his cast offs in the first place...it's not like we have money, so it's not like I can outright complain..."

Kamio gave an amused snort from the doorway. "What are you yammering on about now?" He joined Shinji at the mirror, looking critically at himself, occasionally pulling a lock of hair into place. "It's two-forty. I wonder if we should wait by the curb, or what?" He looked speculatively at Shinji through the mirror, squinting a bit. "I never noticed how long your hair was getting. I remember when it was only down to here." He touched Shinji's jaw.

Shinji grumbled, rubbing some foundation onto a pimple above his eyebrow. "That was a long time ago. I think that was even before we played together...back in grade school. Back then your hair looked the same as it does now..." He gave Kamio an appraising look, tilting his head onto the other boy's shoulder. "Where'd you get the glasses? You never wore them before. They don't look bad, I mean. They kind of accent your face." He reached up, tapping at them with a black-painted fingernail. "Ah. There's no glass in them."

Kamio nudged Shinji off of him, bumping his hip against the other's affectionately. He leaned forward, pulling his eyelid down and sweeping some eyeliner across it. He tossed it to Shinji and walked from the bathroom. "They were Oshitari's. The glasses. Gakuto tried them on and didn't like them, so he brought them over." He sat on the edge of their unmade bed with a sour look. "God, that kid's annoying, but at least he has good fashion sense."

Shinji had to agree with Kamio on that one, eyeing the other boy as he slid some dark makeup over his eyes. Kamio was wearing a bright green shirt, fitted so that it slid over his hipbones, showing his pale skin and small black tattoo. Shinji eyed the shamrock adorning the tight fabric, the design clinging to the bottom of Kamio's shirt. Low black pants showed the tiniest sliver of red elastic, and Shinji smiled to himself. Kamio was wearing his lucky red underwear today. He remembered buying them for Kamio as a joke once, but Kamio taking it as seriously as he took every gift from Shinji.

Shinji opened his mouth, but was cut off by knocking on the door. Kamio froze, tugging down his shirt, meeting Shinji's eyes.

"Hello? Hellooo? Lucky Sengoku here! I'm here to pick you up!" Another knock. "I hope you're in there!"

Shinji's eye twitched. Kamio shot up from the bed, dashing towards the door. His sneakers skid and he just barely kept himself from hitting the wall by grabbing at the handle, swinging the door open with an unmanly squeak. "Hello," he managed, gathering himself up, trying to look presentable. He looked up at the figure in the doorway and was met with a hand shoved in his face, reaching out. He shook it awkwardly.

"Good afternoon! I'm Sengoku!" He shook Kamio's hand vigorously, grinning widely. He shook a shock of orange hair from his eyes, peering at Kamio. "Hey!" He pointed at a shamrock near Kamio's hip, poking at his shirt intrusively. "Clovers are lucky, you know?"

Shinji spoke up, stepping out from behind Kamio. He jerked Kamio away from the happy man, glaring at him sharply. "Are you the guy Atobe sent?" He said humorlessly, not letting go of Kamio's shoulders. "Because you sure are getting personal, fast. I don't like you already. It's not even three yet. We are perfectly capable of being on time, you know. We could have met you outside. This is rather rude." Kamio winced to himself, reaching back to smooth a subtle hand against Shinji's thigh.

Sengoku held out his hands in a placating manner. "Ah, sorry, sorry! I was just kind of excited about meeting you guys. Jiroh had been going on about you... Though Jiroh goes on about a lot..." He touched a finger to his chin, his green eyes practically sparkling as they fell upon Kamio. Shinji could feel the hair on the back of his necks standing on end. "And you are?"

Kamio moved past the doorway, pulling Shinji with him into the hallway. "I'm Kamio Akira, and this is my...this is Shinji. Shinji Ibu." He locked the door with a bit of a blush, sending a pleasant trill up Shinji's spine. He had no time to speculate on it, however, as the two found themselves being tugged towards the stairwell, carted by a very energetic Sengoku.

"Well, glad to meet you! I'm Mr. Keigo's errand boy, you can say. Kind of an opportune job when I was down on my luck, I might add. Can't complain! Pay's good, plus I get to meet plenty of attractive people along the way." Shinji seriously felt an urge to push Sengoku down the stairs but at the same time couldn't help but like the redhead on some basic level.

They exited out of the building and into the cold air, Kamio and Shinji being towed along by Sengoku, who was rattling on to them about how lucky he was to have landed such a cool job, all the while ignoring the death glare Shinji was levering at his back. "Ah, and there's my car!" He let go of them and waved his hand in the general vicinity of the shiny black sports car parked across the street from them. As if an afterthought, he added, "Why aren't you two wearing coats? It's cold out! Look, it's snowing..." He caught a snowflake on his tongue.

Shinji gave him a dark look. "We were a bit distracted by you. You should have had the common decency to let us get our things together instead of barging in and dragging us out. I suppose it never crossed your mind to quit your pawing and let us dress properly."

Kamio gave Shinji a sharp look, hissing, "C'mon, Shinji. Be nice. He hasn't done anything wrong."

Sengoku either was very selective in what he heard or was rather deaf, as he showed no signs of hearing anything Shinji had said. Instead he opened the driver's side door, sliding into the seat of the car. He slapped at the glove compartment, leaning over the shift and grabbing something from the box. "Here, it may not be much, but I figure it's better than nothing." He tossed something at them; Kamio caught it at the last second before it fell in the snowy street.

"A scarf?" He pulled it out, revealing its length. Plenty long for two people. He took no time in looping it loosely around his and Shinji's necks, drawing his friend closer. He folded his pinky finger around Shinji's, murmuring, "You okay?"

Shinji looked blankly at the car door being opened for them by Sengoku, who was fussing over getting on gloves. "Yeah. I don't like him, though. He likes you, you know. Thinks you're cute."

Kamio sighed and pulled Shinji forcibly into the car, pushing him onto the cold leather of the middle seat, following him with a wince. The cold pierced right through his t-shirt and jeans, soaked his skin and made the hair on his arms stand on end. He moved closer to Shinji, thigh pressing against thigh, shoulder buried between the car seat and Shinji's arm. The car dipped as Sengoku shut their door and sat in the driver's seat, bright hair sticking above the car seat. Shinji rubbed Kamio's hands between his own and rubbed his ankle against the other boy's, breathing out white misted air.

Sengoku started the car. "Brrr." He said, adjusting the rearview mirror to glance back at them. "Hey, we have to make a stop on the way, okay? Atobe wants me to pick up that Fuji guy, and he lives on the other side of town. Make yourselves comfy! In the meanwhile, I'll blast the heat." He paused, as if thinking. "You guys hungry? I was going to stop for some coffee, wouldn't mind at all if you wanted somethin' from the cafe."

Kamio caught Shinji's eye, grinning. Both of their stomachs ached from hunger, though neither wanted to bring it up. "That would be wonderful. But... we don't have any money on us..." He trailed off, uncertainly. They had begun driving, passing up familiar buildings as Sengoku maneuvered the car between spots of traffic. He didn't want to admit that they truly didn't have money, and prayed Sengoku wouldn't delve into the topic.

Sengoku laughed, just barely making it past a red light. "Ah, don't worry about it. I've got plenty, my treat, okay?" He slowed down, swerving into a parking spot on the side of a street. "You guys wait out here. I won't be long." He jogged towards a small shop, ducking into the door with a wave.

Kamio let his head fall onto Shinji's shoulder, nudging his friend's neck with his forehead. "Don't go cold on me just because of him, Shinji. It's not like people don't look at you like that. I don't get mad." He reasoned, shoving his hands between his thighs, warming them. Shinji leaned his head against Kamio's, shifting a bit as the frames of the faux glasses dug into his cheek.

"I'm not mad. I just don't want... Sometimes I think you'll find someone, and this will be over." Whatever this is, Shinji thought. "I just... I know I'm being selfish. You should have whoever you want. I shouldn't hold you back, but I can't help it." Shinji was murmuring now, half aware of what he was saying. He was concentrating on the way Kamio's hair felt against his face, how his lips shone a bit, as if he'd been biting them. Without thinking, Shinji lifted a hand, touching a soft finger to Kamio's lips, rubbing.

A knock on the window revealed a frazzled-looking Sengoku, wielding a cup of coffee and a small bag. "I've locked myself out!" He shouted, smiling sheepishly. Kamio jerked forward, wedging a hand past the driver's seat and window to unlock Sengoku's door. Breathing hard, he sat back as Sengoku all but dived into the warmth of the car, shoving his coffee into a cup holder and thrusting the bag at them. "Buttered croissants, fresh from the oven, and some cookies. Thought they looked good."

Shinji all but snatched the bag from him, the warm smell of food wafting into the backseat. "Thank you." He said, lacking any true gratitude. He sat back as they began driving again, opening the bag and grabbing a croissant before passing it to Kamio. Sengoku turned the radio on, something annoyingly upbeat and modern, and hummed loudly to it. Kamio chuckled.

A few minutes later, the car stopped once again, this time haphazardly double-parked behind a large moving van, giving the vehicle a wide berth. A man was loading a box into it, wavy black hair peeking out from under a purple pom-pom hat, looking rather ridiculous in a large, fur-lined violet coat. He stopped to look at them before huddling into his coat and walking towards a building, steps fast. Sengoku turned and looked at them. "Wanna go in with me or stay out here? We're getting the other guy."

Kamio looked up, a bit of croissant hanging from his mouth. "Er, I guess we'll stay out here. No use in going out there before we have to," He said, waving outside where it had begun to snow heavily. Sengoku nodded and rushed towards the building, slamming his door behind him. Shinji pressed the croissant into Kamio's mouth, brushing a crumb from his chin. Kamio smiled at him and started on a cookie.

-  
"Yuuta. I'm going to ask you one more time. Don't leave." Fuji sat on top of the box Yuuta was going for next, folding his legs over one another calmly, though his voice was tinged with desperation. Yuuta looked at him in exasperation.

"Aniki, don't start this again. We've been through this. I'm moving in with Mizuki. Today. It's been decided." He gently pried Fuji up from the box, then off of his arm where he had wound himself. He leaned down, looking around and noting with satisfaction that it was the last box.

A voice came from the doorway. "Yuuta, do you need any help with that?" Yuuta turned and smiled, heedless of the chilling glare Fuji was giving him. Mizuki was standing in front of him, stepping forward to help Yuuta with his load, purple pom-poms smacking his head with each step.

Fuji cut in, a deep frown on his face. "No need for that, Yuuta can easily take care of that himself. In fact, Mizi...Miza..."

"Mizuki!" Yuuta hissed.

"Yes, Mizuki. Thank you, Yuuta. But I'm afraid there are no more boxes, thus no more need for you to be in my apartment. Get out."

"Aniki!"

Fuji opened the apartment door, his face cold. "Nice seeing you."

"Er, are you Fuji?" Sengoku said awkwardly, his hand poised to knock. He had the strange feeling he had walked in on a very tense situation. Three pairs of eyes stared at him. He smiled disarmingly.

Fuji looked him up and down, slowly. "Yes. Are you Atobe's errand boy?"

Sengoku shuffled. "You could say that. I'm here to pick you up. To take you to Atobe." He cleared his throat, uncomfortable.

Fuji grabbed a coat from a nearby rack, pausing to shoot an angry look in Mizuki's direction, and a slightly less unhappy one at Yuuta. "You two. Out. Yuuta, call me when you're... moved in. Let me know you're okay. Remember, you can always come home." He shoved an arm into the coat, then another, movements fast and incensed.

Sengoku felt quite helpless. "I'm Sengoku," He offered from his spot at the apartment doorway. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, tossing hair from his eyes as he observed the scene before him. It looked to him as if he had entered into quite the domestic struggle. Everyone in the room looked ready to jump at each other's throats. His eyes narrowed. More, Fuji looked ready to jump at everyone's throats, and vice versa. He moved to the side as two of the guys shuffled out, leaving Fuji staring at him.

"Nice to meet you," He said pleasantly, stepping forward to offer a hand to Sengoku. Sengoku took it happily; glad to shake off the hostile atmosphere. Fuji looked at him curiously from under long eyelashes, pink lips curved into a strange smile. Sengoku let go of his hand, grinning back.

"The other guys are waiting in the car," He explained, beginning to walk down the stairs. "Nice bunch. A bit touchy." He swung around the banister at the bottom and looked up at Fuji, whose mind seemed to be elsewhere. He noticed that at least Fuji had the good sense to wear a coat. Good thing, he was out of scarves. Holding the door open, he braced himself as a mixture of sleet and cold hit him. He and Fuji made their way to the car in a strange sort of silence, Fuji staring distantly at the sidewalk. He touched Fuji's arm, "Here's the car." He didn't think Fuji would have noticed otherwise.

Fuji recognized Shinji and Kamio right away from the auditions, their bright hair and sultry faces unmistakable. He squeezed into the backseat, next to Shinji, shrunk away as if to give him more room. "Hello," He said softly, waving his hand in greeting. His fingers brushed against Shinji's thigh as he buckled himself in, and he felt the other boy twitch. He blinked, but said nothing.

"Hello." Kamio said, leaning past Shinji to look at him, smiling uneasily. Fuji was dressed immaculately compared to them- a nice black coat, dress shirt, and slacks versus their t-shirt and jeans. His light brown hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, and he smelled very pleasantly of light cologne. Kamio couldn't even remember the last time they had cologne. He was jerked back into the seat as Sengoku began to drive, once again cranking his music. Fuji began to hum along.

It was a slightly more uncomfortable ride than before, with an additional person crammed into the rather small backseat. Shinji wondered why the hell Fuji couldn't have opted for the passenger's seat in front as Fuji leaned heavily against him on a particularly sharp right turn, and didn't move away afterwards. He shut his eyes, ignoring the feel of Fuji's warmth, the fabric of his coat sliding against his arm, the heady smell of his hair as it drifted against his cheek. He fingered at the pocket of Kamio's pants, a strange calming gesture. Kamio reached down and gripped his hand, kneading it between his fingers. Fuji's breath was ghosting against his neck. Shinji shifted closer to Kamio. Fuji followed subtly, his side pressing lightly into Shinji's tense arm.

Shinji was about to say something when the car made an abrupt stop, throwing them all forward. Sengoku looked back apologetically. "Ah, we're here," He explained, letting them gather themselves together. Fuji stepped neatly from the car, Shinji and Kamio getting out from the other side. They instantly curled against each other against the cold, glancing around. This part of town was unfamiliar, buildings towering towards the bleak sky above. Sengoku, a cheery looking figure in the rather depressing scene of snow and concrete, ushered them towards a particularly tall building, butting a door open with his hip. Inside a large, gilded lobby was visible, huge and empty. Shinji and Kamio rushed into it, shivering, as Fuji followed them in, looking around.

A lone desk sat in the center of the lobby, which Sengoku rushed towards, leaving his charges at the door. "Hey!" He shouted, waving at the figure at the desk, a weary looking older woman, "Hey, we're here to see Atobe."

The woman looked up at him from her computer, gazing at him a long-suffering manner, "As if you don't know your way, Mr. Sengoku. Tenth floor, down the hall, four doors to your right." She returned to her work, typing furiously away. "You just like to hear yourself talk."

Sengoku laughed, looking at the group by the door over his shoulder, "Alright then, follow me. You heard the woman!" They silently followed him, a bit overwhelmed by the situation. They were really there, really about to meet Atobe. This was rather unbelievable. The elevator was as gilded and spacious as the lobby, with a plush red couch pushed opposite the door. Shinji sat down on it, pulling Kamio down with him, almost on top of him. Fuji observed this with something akin to silent amusement, as Sengoku took it as his job to press the buttons. They elevator trip was full of the same anxious silence as the car ride- anticipatory, almost.

Finally, the elevator stopped, and they stepped out into a long hall. Every so often a door was placed on either side, and judging by the spacing of them, the rooms within were sure to be huge. Kamio felt distinctly out of place, almost craving the small comfort of their apartment compared to this rather lonely building. Sengoku motioned forward, "Almost there, guys." They followed him a rather long way down the hall, where they paused before a glass door, blinds behind it pulled shut though the door was cracked open. Sengoku reached for it-

"Dammit! You can't do this, Atobe-" A man's voice, loud and upset, filtered out into the hallway. Sengoku let his hand drop, eyes wide.

Atobe's voice, distinct and haughty responded, "I'm quite entitled to make these kinds of decisions. Have you taken time to read your contract? I can do this."

"But it's a mistake, I swear. Just let me find him okay? Give me a few days; I just need to talk to him!"

"I don't have a few days. It's not my fault your band mate decided to cancel his contract. Yours is a lost case, I'm afraid." Slightly less cold, he said a bit more softly, "If you happen to mend things with him, come back to see me. Until then, there is nothing I can do."

"Bullshit! You could have talked to him, you could have stopped him! I don't know where he is! I can't fix this!"

"You're free to leave, Mr. Shishido. I don't appreciate your foul language. A deal is a deal."

"But-" The man spluttered, apparently torn between panicking and biting Atobe's head off. "I'll be back later. You can damn bet on it." Footsteps came swiftly towards the door; the door began to swing open-

"Oh, and Shishido? Mr. Ootori informed me that he'd be staying at a nearby hotel. If you wanted to track him down and talk to him, granted he'd be less than...willing, considering your situation."

Sengoku and the others sprung back as a man stalked from the room with a snarl, long brown hair whipping past them. "Good fucking luck in there," He said in a grated voice, before sweeping down the hall.

Sengoku peeked into the room.

"Ah, Mr. Atobe. I believe I have your musicians here."

-  
AN: Man, that was rushed towards the end. But in retrospect, this was the longest piece of fic I have ever written. I was in awe! Shock! Amazement! XD I'm sorry if the characters seem OOC. If you have a case with them, tell me, and I'll try to give my explanation. I'll admit, I've been taking artistic liberties... (like with their clothes. No way Shinji and Kamio would dress like that. But they SHOULD. XD)

It's sad when you realize everything you know about bands comes from Gravitation. (please bear with me and my made-up facts. :3)

Comments? Complaints?

-  
(Because I want to, I'm responding to reviews. BECAUSE IT'S THE NICE THING TO DOOOO!)

Eviljinxypoo- Megan, I can't bear your children. You and I both have uterus's. XD

ILuvFujiko- Er, Oshitari being Gakuto's slave... -drools- Er, I mean, Yes. I will continue.

Seven- Thanks for the review! I love ShinjiKamio! -starry eyes-

A.F.D.- Man, your name is long. Hope you don't mind that I abbreviated it? Thank yooou for commenting.

Suuki- I was so nervous that the band idea was too cliched. Glad you liked! I didn't really like Yummi before this. XD Now I'm rabid!

animelover630- Don't send the ninjas. Anything but the ninjas! XD Buahaha. More on Shinji's depression later! And more Jirou. Maybe even AtoJi. Hm!

IceRi- Awesome, A c2? Cool! Hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint? XD 


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Junior year sucks to the 400th degree of suckiness. That said, enjoy the chapter! XD

Warnings: As if you didn't know (or expect), but the boiluv is rising as of NOW. So if you don't like, please don't read!

* * *

Kamio was beautiful.

This was something Shinji knew rather than thought about, some ingrained notion that had rooted itself in his mind somehow without him really knowing about it. He had never had to stare at Kamio, examine his for hours to know he was the most aesthetically pleasing thing he had ever seen- but he did anyway, because he happened to stare at things a lot, and Kamio never really minded.

If there was anyone who could name where, when, how Kamio looked best it was Shinji- they were best friends, it was only natural Shinji could recall snippets of especially pretty mental snapshots- pretty, perhaps, was not the best word, for it was quite clear that Kamio wasn't a girl, for sure, but Shinji felt he was in fact a /pretty/ boy, just as he himself was a /pretty/ boy. Kamio's face looked good under the soft light of their bedside lamp, the dim, cheap light highlighting his nose, his chin, his cheek as they held quiet, late night jam sessions, murmuring words until they felt right with the song.

Kamio looked even better in the pouring rain, in the shower even, where Shinji could watch the slides of water until they disappeared into the line of Kamio's mouth or ducked under his chin, wetness pushing strands of hair into his eyes, demanding Shinji to reach out a hand and push them away. Shinji could have swore, however, his favorite Kamio, the /prettiest/ Kamio, was when Kamio was sleeping; his face just close enough to Shinji's for him to count the tiny imperfections- the bit of stubble forming on Kamio's jaw, the pimple on his chin, the stray hair on his eyebrow that needed to be plucked- and Shinji would sometimes, drawn close by Kamio's deep, heavy breathing, dare to lean in, kiss Kamio's cheek, then his mouth, watch the heavy, dark eyelashes stay shut, deep in sleep-

Yes, those were the times Kamio was beautiful, pretty. Shinji knew them well.

Now, with Kamio back lighted by the bright, starkly colored lights of the stage, body wrapped into a song- twisting, writhing around the microphone like a burning fuse, Shinji knew this was more than beautiful. Shinji wanted, for the first time (this badly, anyway. He was quite sure there had been many unconscious instances of this urge, however innocently wrapped in the past they were) to claw Kamio's clothes off, get under his tight black shirt, mark him as his own in front of the rambunctious, alive crowd of teenagers, who probably wanted the same thing as he. The feeling scared him, but was dulled, drowned out by the way his own fingers were flying across the guitar strings, the rush of the cheers and the scream-a-long of the pulsing crowd they were playing to. He didn't see the crowd though- oh, they saw him, to be sure, were screaming at him every time he let his hand stray from his guitar to thread fingers through his hair (which was down and wild, hair tie lost in the craze of the last set of songs, the craze of the performance), to tug his tight shirt languorously over his stomach, from where it had ridden up over the sweat sheened skin- no, he didn't see them at all.

His eyes were fixed on Kamio, yes, his back, his side, whatever was facing him in the sporadic, strobing moments of time in which the light was solid enough to see through the shadowed stage, taking in the wild tangle of hair, red, then purple, then all colors of the rainbow as a strobe light kicked in, watching his face, screwed up with delicious, thirsty agony as he screamed into the mic- all pretense of quite, contemplative music gone (they had moved into their harder music as the night wore on, Shinji's throat was already shot from just being on backup). Kamio was a wild creature on stage, taking large leaps of time to move crazily around, out of breath and singing heavily.

It was a break in between songs, an interlude where they stumbled backstage, when Kamio plastered himself, reeking of sweat and excitement, to Shinji's back, leaning on him as if he could die.

"This is the fucking best, man. Really on the damn rhythm." He whispered, hoarse and rough, into Shinji's ear, his very voice belying the grin on his face, lips pressed into Shinji's hair. He let go of his friend, still breathing as laboriously as if he had ran a marathon at full sprint, shirt gone see through with sweat, and even in the dark confines known as backstage Shinji could clearly see the perk of his nipple and heave of his stomach. He wanted so badly to touch, so damn badly to ride the onstage rush and make Kamio scream into the microphone, scream for him-

There were definitely times Kamio was beautiful. But right now, Shinji thought, becoming aware, deliciously aware and painfully wanting, that Kamio, onstage- electric- was goddamn gorgeous.

* * *

Not one foot was stepped inside the door of Atobe's office, held open by Sengoku. In fact, the moment the door was opened wide enough for Shinji to catch a glimpse of the ornate and intricate decorations of the inside- an office indeed, the room resembled more a four star hotel room than anything, only the little plaque on the doorframe declaring it "office" cementing it as such- Atobe himself, very recognizable due to the fact he was plastered all over television and some rather questionable paparazzi magazines, slid out of the room and gracefully took the handle from Sengoku's grasp, closing the door with a soft click. 

"Ah," He murmured, surveying the scene set before him with lazy, striking eyes, mouth slowly moving into something akin to a smile, but reminding Shinji more of a tiger, showing his teeth before he bit into his helpless prey. Shinji felt something, reassuringly familiar, touch his back, a sweet brush of Kamio's hand, and he wondered if Kamio felt the same whisperings of nervousness as he did, the tumbling of his stomach that felt curiously as he imagined a washing machine must feel during a spin cycle. He watched Atobe with the morbid curiosity of one who watches a ticking bomb, waiting for something, probably explosive, to occur. It did.

"I hope you're ready?" His voice was smooth and soft, and Shinji heard the curious giggle of the Fuji boy, close to him. Atobe seemed to pay no heed to it, in fact, he was a bit more preoccupied with what seemed to be the task of cleaning out his fingernails, although Shinji was swear he was waiting patiently for a shocked response or something of the likes.

Kamio didn't disappoint. "Ready for what?" Shinji peeked at him from the corner of his eye, took in the questioning expression on Kamio's face, the frown pulling at his visible eye, slanting it in suspicion. Shinji knew Kamio had a long history of fiery impatience and arrogant run-a-rounds like Atobe never mixed well with his friend. He just hoped that Kamio remembered how much they desperately needed- it was times like these a telepathic mind link would come in handy- this gig, how the future of having meals and clothes and heating depended in this. He didn't especially want to be hungry, naked, and cold- Kamio better not run his mouth or talk smack. He saw Sengoku glance at Kamio nervously.

"You?" Atobe melted past them. Truly melted; his stride smooth and unwavering, practiced and flowing. He postured a bit, touching his chin as he circled their little group in the confines of the hallway, eyes fixed on Kamio. "Well, I supposed I shall answer your question with one of my own." He crossed his arms, his head tilting to the side to let his hair fall theatrically, dramatically across his face. "You do know what I brought you here for, right?"

Kamio frowned, and Shinji wanted to hold his hand, stroke away some of the nervous tension he saw in his friend's face. "Of course I do." He muttered, face turning red. "I think," He said a bit more quietly.

Atobe leaned against the wall and, ever seeming to be preening somehow, flicked at the loose collar of his shirt, playing with it. "Well, let me perhaps explain myself a little better. This isn't my usual thing, speaking personally with my soon to be subordinates, I'll have you know." He sniffed, his eyes trailing over their faces, before his gaze landed on Sengoku. Sengoku stood up a bit straighter. "Ah, you can go now. If you can pick up Jirou from the art studio, perhaps? I told him to expect you."

Sengoku nodded sharply, "Sure thing, sir. Good luck!" The last bit was directed at his three former passengers, whom he winked at cheekily, laughing softly as he retreated down the hall. Shinji could not say he was sad to see the boy go, and took the chance of the diversion to move a bit closer to Kamio, enough to touch him if he wanted, a reassuring distance.

After a bit of a pause in which Atobe watched Sengoku wander off, a small cough from Fuji- barely a noise, really- made Shinji look up on instinct. Having caught his eye, Fuji took good measure to make sure Shinji was really looking at him. 'Are you nervous?' he mouthed, tilting his head slightly, as if motioning towards something, someone- Kamio. Shinji narrowed his eyes and shook his head, wondering what exactly the boy was getting at. Fuji let his eyes drift to Atobe, then back to Shinji. He winked.

Shinji was befuddled, but didn't have much time to linger on the subtle intentions of the strange boy. Before he could move out of the way, Atobe brushed his way past him in the opposite direction from whence they came, waving his hand haughtily at them, like one would a servant. "Follow me." Kamio opened his mouth, and Shinji, knowing that Kamio was already a bit peeved at their hopefully-employer, clapped a hand to his wrist, effectively silencing him. Kamio looked at him sharply, and Shinji managed a shaky half-smile.

They followed Atobe, filed behind him like kindergarteners on a field trip. Atobe made no motions to make them comfortable, no small talk or greetings, and Shinji found himself staring dispassionately at the man, feeling a shallow pool of resentment pooling in his stomach. How could they work with someone who didn't even bother to pretend to want to hire them, to know them? He didn't let go of Kamio's wrist, his hold tightening as they trailed down the expansive, twisting hallways. The building was huge and very, very empty-seeming by the time Atobe stopped at a doorway some minutes and two lonely stairwells later, Shinji entertained a hysterical thought that if Atobe were to decide to lock them in a room and leave them, no one would hear them scream. He watched; thumb tracing the web of skin between Kamio's fore and middle finger, Atobe smoothly unlocked the door, pulling the key from his tailored pants.

The door opened, the room revealed was uninviting and dark. "Go on. I have to go ahead and prepare the room. I hope you're ready to impress," He said shortly, disappearing into the room, glancing at them. Kamio looked at Shinji, glancing quickly at Fuji as he followed Atobe into the unlit room. "My throat is sore. I have a bad idea about this, whatever this is." He looked panicked, his hands rising to smooth obsessively at the folds in the shirt over Shinji's chest. "I don't like Atobe, he doesn't like us, and I'm so nervous." This last part was a hushed whisper. Shinji took Kamio's hands, rubbing them with his fingers. He made sure the hallway was empty, which was absurd as they had not seen a single soul in the expansive building, but made sure none the same.

"Kamio, it's going to be fine."

"I can't do this, you don't-"

Kissing Kamio was something Shinji had never dared to do in the daylight hours, certainly never when Kamio was awake, certainly not when Kamio was so nervous and scared and needing. It wasn't much, just a thin brush of his lips against Kamio's parted ones, just a small suck to Kamio's bottom lip, plush and soft. It wasn't great, it wasn't anything he hadn't expected, but it was heaven.

"Hm, I think you two should hurry up." Fuji's soft voice, amused and dangerous, drifted towards them, its owner leaning against the doorframe, his eyes closed in bemusement. Shinji breathed in sharply, started to pull away and felt Kamio nose his cheek before moving, an affectionate, silent 'thank you'. Fuji stepped towards them, arms crossed over his slim chest. "He has quite the setup in there; you should come see if you're done with your business." His smile widened. Shinji felt a wave of foreboding, both from Fuji and the prospect of a 'setup'.

Despite the awkward air- he had just KISSED his best friend, he had just kissed his gorgeous best friend during the audition of a lifetime, he had just been caught kissing his best friend...- he began to follow Fuji stiffly. The room was now lit and he could see it was absolutely huge, about the size of a gymnasium, a giant, white gymnasium. Kamio filed in behind him, looking around in confused wonder. Atobe was at the opposite end of the room, standing behind the only visible equipment in the empty place, the rest of the room totally absent of anything. Color, furniture, even the grand decor one would expect from one such as Atobe was missing. Atobe walked to meet them, a very familiar piece of equipment in his hand, being held towards them.

Kamio stared at it for a moment, then at Atobe when the man didn't speak. "A microphone?" Atobe nodded, hand on hip. Kamio hesitantly reached out, hand white, and took it, fingering it as he brought it closer. This was all so strange, so surreal, so /fast/. It was as if he were taking a lot more than a microphone from Atobe, more like a contract binding his soul. He licked his lips, tasted Shinji there, and his stomach fluttered even harder. "What should I do with this?"

Atobe stared at him as if he were an idiot; lazy, cold eyes laughing at him, igniting him. "Show me what I'm investing in." Kamio felt even more as if he were holding his pen over the devil's books, lingering right over 'sign here, please'. Atobe looked at him, and through his cold, haughty veneer Kamio could see a spark of anticipatory excitement. The kind of stuff that moved the crowds, the happy look of a fan just about to witness a great act. Kamio couldn't resist that look.

"What do you want me to do?" A simple question.

Atobe gave him a simple answer. "Sing. Now. No audience, no stage."

And the contract was made.

* * *

AN: I hope that kiss wasn't too early... oops! I couldn't wait, I have a strong constitution when it comes to these things! XD Anyway, stay tuned, because things are going to get... chaotically wacky, if I may. 


	6. Chapter 6

Smash Hit!

Rating: PG-13

Chapter: 6/15

Pairings: Shinji/Kamio and more! Whoo!

Warnings: Making out ahoy! cheers!

Summary: Success hasn't come to Shinji and Kamio until they get a chance to play at the prestigious Atobe Keigo's concert. However, with many obstacles blocking their way, can they make it to the top? AU, shounen-ai, bandfic

Warning: This chapter is, as of now, unbetaed. I spologize, but I had to get this off of my harddrive ASAP as it will be found otherwise. Until then, live with this version, please. Next chapter will hold much more plot. :) I just had to get back into the swing of it.

Enjoy! Thank you for the reviews! I love you all!

* * *

"I'm impressed," Atobe said, voice rising over the fading strings of the last guitar riff. He He approached Kamio slowly, eyes set on him, stride lax and measured. "But it still wasn't good enough."

Kamio started to say something, then stopped, then tried to say something again, but couldn't fit thre words together. He had just given his best, he and Shinji jjust pulled off the best fucking performance of their lives, and this bastard was telling them they weren't good enough? He felt his temper sweel and he bit his lip, the microphone passing awkwardly from hand to hand in anxiety. They couldn't have blown it...

He turned to look at Shinji from behind his shoulder, eyes heavy. Shinji was staring at him as if he had never seen him before, lips soft and almost smiling. Kamio turned back around, facing Atobe with a grim set of his jaw. "Well, what do you want from us?"

Atobe smiled widely, haughtily, and paced forward toawrds Kamio, eyes predatory. He brushed a hand against the immaculate white of his pants, scuffed a intimisdatingly expensive shoe agasinst the floor daintily. "I want," He drawled slowly, eyes falling from Kamio to Shinji, then back, as if sizing them both up. Like a alligator with two young deer, Kamio thought. Atobe was level with him now, very close. "You. I want you, all of you. Both of you."

Kamio's body was frozen, and what should have been relief flowing through his veins was something a bit thicker, a bit more scared and fast and dangerous. He swallowed hard, felt his throat bob under Atobe's gaze. "Yes," He managed. "You can have us." And they would make it big and Atobe could have their fame, too. As long as they made it.

Suddenly Shinji was there, very close to him, touching reassuringly against the force that was Atobe, cupping his shoulder with one skinny hand. "Thank you for this opportunity," He said lowly, faint voice ringing surreal-like in Kamio's ear, swiriling along the shell. His insides twisted curiously.

"Yes, well, I am a generous kind of man." Atobe said laughingly, stepping back and releasing his vacuum from the two. Kamio could suddenly breathe, and he leaned back into the reasssuring touch on his shoulder, muscles loosening. He hadn't realized he had been sweating throughout the performance, how hard he had actually given it to Atobe, to the room, to anyone who could have been watching. He felt damn exhausted.

"You were great," he muttered behind him, heading away from the stage area, back toward where Fuji was observing them with a mysterious expression. He felt more than saw Shinji smile.

"You were good," Fuji called to them, unzipping his jacket. "But still..." He opened his eyes, which were shut innocently prior, and looked at them, actually /looked/ at them. "Watch and learn, neh?" He stepped past them, towards the microphone Kamio had dropped.

Kamio collapsed bodily against the wall, staring distantly at Fuji, then at the hand waving in front of his face. He turned a myopic gaze towards Shinji, then raised his hand to wrap his fingers around and between Shinji's. "Heh. You're hand is shaky." He murmured, ears pricking at the faint noise of Fuji tuning his guitar.

Shinji brought Kamio's hand to his side, resting the back of his hand against the seam of his jeans. "You're cold," He said slowly, running free fingers through his hair, eyes fluttering close. He let his knees weaken and slid down the wall, tugging Kamio down with him. "Let's watch." Fuji had started some warm up notes, his voice lilting faintly, across the large room.

Kamio sighed and coughed weakly, his forehead sweating lightly. "Yeah," He answered simply, fingers moving in small circles on the back of Shinji's hand, feeeling out the fragile bones there and pressing gently.

They sat quietly then, watching Fuji warming up, growing from the silent boy from the car to something wild and alive beneath the bright lights of the great white room, something that would come at you in the night with great, white snarling teeth. Something deadly and beautiful...

"I'm ready," He called out at last, toawrds Atobe, smiling simply but not at him. At Kamio. Daring. Mocking, almost, a playgorund "I'm better than you". Kamio frowned deeply and licked his dry lips, glaring at Fuji from the inside of the shining rim of his faux glasses.

He hated him, then. Because he was better, and he knew it, and Atobe knew it. From his clothes to his attitutde to his voice, he was on a totally different class.

Fuji started to sing then, and he was better than Kamio had imagined, has remembered, and he hated him even more.

* * *

"I can't believe we start tomorrow," Kamio moaned, letting gravity take hold and pull him into the comfortable hold of the mattress.He sniffed lightly, taking in the combined scent of deoderant, shampoo, Shinji and him and smiled softly, exhausted but strangely happy. He had fallen asleep at least twice on the car ride home, head bouncing onto Shinji's shoulder as he tried unsuccesfully to stay awake. It was nice to be home.

The bed dipped next to him, and the presence of Shinji's hand, cold and thin, made itself known on Kamio's back. "Mm," Kamio purred, feeling his neck prick in delicious goosebumpos at the feeling of his friend's fingers digging into his back, pressing out the tension. Kamio stared at the wall, just letting Shinji pay attention to him, not really paying attention to anything himself. Shinji bent low, working into the flat, bony planes of Kamio's shoulder blades, breath heavy over his friends neck, lips almost brushing the red dyed strand of hair resting there.

Then, simple as breathing, Shinji kissed Kamio's neck, a long, deliberate touch.

Kamio tensed like a guitar string wound too tight, then, played under Shinji's light fingertips and too close to snapping for comfort. He opened his mouth, gaping like a fish, for air that wouldn't quite reach his lungs but hung around his flushed face teasingly unbreathable.

It was then time stood still, the silence between them like a question. Shinji was wide open for rejection, Kamio could practiacally feel his friend bared before him, pleading, almost. A yes or a no. Something was on the balance of a knife, a huge decision posed in the forn of Shinji's lips, something Kamio just had to reach out and touch-

He was afraid. Shit, the last few days were as scary as hell.

He was alarmed. Was was getting into Shinji? They were both physically dependant on each other, but never to this extent... It... didn't bother him though. It really didn't.

It... was fine.

Kamio, after the split second deliberations that usually decide the most impotant decisions in one's life, took a breath and closed his eyes.

"Shinji." His voice was so steady, so different than what Kamio felt like on the inside. Shinji hadn't really moved, not really, had just shifted so that his neck molded into Kamio's shoulder, pressing there in a patient manner. Kamio turned his head into the pillow fully for a moment, breathing deeply and smelling their scents intermingled in the pillow cover. His stomach had turned into a thousand worms, twisting and turning upon themselves.

He breathed, a final time, and turned over. Shinji fell off of him with a loud noise, one that started in his throat and caught in his mouth wetly, one that made Kamio's hair stand on end in a bizarre excitement. Kamio's hand pulled on Shinji's shoulder, tugging him down on top of him, chest to chest this time. "I'm going to kiss you." He announced into Shinji's hair, dragging skittish fingernails down his back, then up, then down again. "I want to." He was sure. He did want to.

And then Shinji spoke, right into Kamio's collarbone, in a tone he had nmever spoken in before. "You don't have to," It was soft, but reverberated through Kamio's body like an empty drum pounded too hard. "I never want you to have to. You don't... Don't kiss me, Kamio." And then Shinji was shaking a little, and Kamio wrapped him up in his arms tighter than was comfortable, a hard, aching embrace. "I just wanted to so bad today... right now... I don't know why. I don't know."

Kamio smiled, nervous. "Hey," He murmured, spreading his thighs out slowly, like some sort of unconscious physical reassurance. Shinji rested there, breathing deeply, obviously upset. Kamio tried again. "Shinji. Don't... come on. Would I ever do anything I didn't want to?" Shinji shook his head then, lightly, so lightly Kamio almost didn't notice but for the shift in hair tickling his nose. Kamio played with Shinji's hair then, like one plays with the hair of a cat, stroking and weaving his fingers through the long ponytail. "You're all I have, Shinji. Why would I use you?"

It was so truthful it hurt. Kamio didn't regret his words, no matter how small he falt in the wake of them. He felt like a little kid who had just written their name on a desk with the name of their crush, linked by a marker heart. Like he had just jumped into something he wasn't prepared for.

He certainly wasn't prepared for the sobbing kiss that Shinji gave him in the next split-second, the tension in his friend's arms as he hoisted himself above Kamio, desperately mouthing at him. Kamio arched up instantaneously, wondering at the way their lips felt- chapped and wet, sliding- the way their evening stubble itched almost pleasantly against each other's chins.

"Feels like a... live show," Kamio gasped laughingly, foot digging into the blankets and hands digging into Shinji's hair. "The adrenaline..." His body was on fire, electric fire it felt like. Kmaio had never had a chance to kiss anyone else before Shinji. It was always Shinji. He felt like there would never be anyone but Shinji. He muttured this into Shinji's ear.

"Kamio," Shinji purred, and it was a purr, really, like one Kamio would get from his old cat right when he scritched him under the chin, the happiest noise an animal could make. Shinji kissed him again, sloppily, and Kamio could feel the prick of Shinji's nipples into his chest and remembered faintly that the room was cold, even though it felt like it was on fire-

Bang.

They froze.

Bang, bang. "Kamio! I know you're in there!" Gakuto. Kamio cursed loudly.

It was a quick disentanglement, but a messy one to be sure when Shinji almost refused to retract his hand from underneath Kamio's shirt.

"...Open up, you two! I brought dinner." A bit softer, not meant for Kamio and Shinji to hear. "Yuushiiii, hold this bag. My arm hurts."

Kamio looked at Shinji, flushed and amused and all-over pleased with the situation, and got up to open the door.

* * *

Sorry if that was not to your liking! Was it too rushed? That was the only way I could see it getting across... Ah! Oh well. There's always... NEXT TIME! 


End file.
